


Softly the Snow

by Flightlesskiwi



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memories, Snow, Winter, but like an extremely watered down version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightlesskiwi/pseuds/Flightlesskiwi
Summary: During shore leave together in San Francisco, Jim and Spock catch a rare snowfall. It stirs up memories for both of them.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 16
Kudos: 40





	Softly the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> A snowy fic for December, the title is from Frist Snow, Kerhonkson by Diane Di Pima, it's a lovely poem, sort of soft and melancholic which is in fitting with the tone of this fic I guess.

The pair of them sit together in a warm little cafe in San Francisco. There’s heat radiating from an open fire, and carefully curated mood lighting creates an intimate and cosy atmosphere. It’s the perfect spot to spend a cold day in good company. 

Jim relaxes into it as sips at his hot chocolate. He’s watching the orange light play across Spock’s face as he gazes into the flames, feeling warmth and contentment that has nothing to do with the fire. The quiet is easy and pleasant and he feels reluctant to disrupt it. Instead enjoying a rare moment of peace. No one trying to kill them, no Starfleet brass breathing down their necks. Just him and Spock locked together in a comfortable orbit.

They’d gotten quite good at it now, sitting together in silence. After alpha shift over a chessboard, in the mess with the rest of the crew clamouring around them, slumped over each other on a couch after a mission. It was easy and gentle. Sometimes after all the noise of the bridge entering the silence of Spock’s quarters felt like stepping into an oasis. A small island of peace in their busy, noisy lives. 

Pulling his eyes from Spock’s face he glances out the window and gasps, excitement rising in his chest at what he sees.  
“Spock!” He exclaims, grabbing Spock’s arm and shaking it as he points. “It’s snowing!”

“Indeed, it must be particularly cold,” Spock says, his eyes gentle as he watches the flakes hit the window pane. While his First Officer seems disinterested, eagerness has already seized hold of Jim. Of course, he’s going to drag Spock along for the ride.

“C’mon!” Jim cries, rushing to pull on his jacket and pulling Spock to do the same, hurrying them both out onto the street with frantic motions. 

He hasn’t seen snow since he’d last been in Iowa. San Fran just doesn’t have the climate for it, at least not usually. He remembers for a moment, snow-filled Christmas mornings, snowball fights with Sam, his mom making them cocoa as they shook the snow from their boots. They’re happy memories, worn at the edges like an old printed photograph, well-loved and soft with age. 

Jim shakes it off like fresh powder and races outside, staring in wonder at the clouds overhead.  
“It’s a Christmas miracle Spock!” He cheers, sticking his hands into the air. He looks over at the vulcan, only to find Spock already watching him, there are snowflakes caught in his eyelashes and they melt against his cheeks as he blinks.

“Miracles are not logical Captain,” He says, with a teasing lilt to his voice, casting his eyes to the sky above.  
“And it is November.” He adds, eyes sparkling. 

Jim laughs, feeling a vicious clawing kind of joy as he looks at Spock. He links their arms together and drags Spock along, their feet sliding slightly in the slush already forming on the street.  
“Let’s go to the park,” He says, leaning into the warmth of Spock’s side.  
“It’ll be lovely, and quiet, with the weather.” He adds, raising a hopeful eyebrow. Spock nods in reply, his gaze lingering on Jim’s eyes and the red of his cheeks, giving himself up to Jim as he always does.

  


* * *

  


The snow grows heavier while they walk and everything in the park becomes dusted with a faint sheet of white.  
Spock holds out his hand, his fingertips turning a faint green from the cold, and watches the snow melt when it touches his skin.  
“Every snowflake is a singularly unique pattern, yet they are made of the same base elements.” He says after a moment, fingers curling around empty air. 

“Yes,” Jim says quietly. “Infinite diversity in infinite combinations as you say.” He watches Spock stare at the snow with open curiosity, feeling himself smile involuntarily at the sight. Something in Spock’s expression changes, a quiet melancholy welling up behind his eyes. Concern wrapped itself around Jim’s gut, but he stays quiet. Sometimes it’s best to leave Spock room to feel. 

“We visited Earth once, for Christmas,” Spock says softly, a cloud of white breath accompanying the words. Jim watched the soft rise and fall of his shoulders, the flakes of white caught like stars in his hair. He feels his chest ache.

“My mother loved snow, she believed it made the world quieter, that it washed it clean for new beginnings,” Spock says, eyes no longer really seeing the world around him, lost in some distant memory. Jim’s muscles lock, fighting the urge to rush forward and wrap Spock in his arms, to soothe his internal struggle. The line of Spock’s shoulders is way too tense and part of him worries that if he touches him Spock will shatter. 

“It is my greatest regret,” Spock says, his voice and hands shaking. “That I deprived her the gift of my understanding.” 

“Oh, Spock.” Jim breathes, surging forward to wrap the vulcan up in his arms, unable to hold back any longer in the face of his quiet anguish.  
“I’m sure she knew, of course she knew.” He murmurs, gripping Spock fiercely, trying to take some of the weight from his shoulders, the tension from around his eyes. Spock lets out a silent sigh, his warm breath hitting Jim’s neck, and folds into him, crumpling. Jim just holds him, rocking them slightly from foot to foot. He thinks of his own mother, how certain songs make her cry, even though they’re happy, how a certain smell still freezes her in her tracks. It’s a grief that he’s never really known, to have all the intimate reminders of someone that bring them rushing back in waves of hurt. 

They stand there in the middle of the park, gripping each other like the snow around them is a hurricane and the other is the only thing tethering them to Earth. 

“It is not logical, yet I wish that she was here to see it.” Spock mutters into Jim’s shoulder. He sounds lost and unsteady like he might topple over and disappear amongst the snow, melting with it when the sun comes out.

“It might not be logical,” Jim says, smoothing his hand down Spock’s back. “But it’s definitely human.” Rather than protest, Spock just holds him tighter. Jim lets himself sink into the warmth of Spock’s hold and run a gentle hand over his hair. He can’t understand what Spock is going through, not really, but he can try and in the meantime, he can offer whatever comfort his vulcan will accept. 

They stay there until it gets too cold to bear and both of them are shivering. 

Jim fusses, fixing Spock’s scarf, and linking their hands together, smiling at the way it makes Spock shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the cold.  
“Let’s go home.” He says, and Spock nods, tightening his hold on Jim’s hand as they walked off into the flurries together.

**Author's Note:**

> as always I'm over on [tumbr](https://some-sorta-horta.tumblr.com/) on my trek blog. Thank you so much to everyone who reads and leaves comments and kudos on my fics! If I don't post again before the holiday season proper, happy holidays! I hope it treats you all well.


End file.
